Dark Sensations
by milapa
Summary: Richie is tortured in the most horrible ways. Very dark, very mature


WARNING: This fan fiction contains extreme torture, blood, violence, and man on man rape. You have been warned. If you don't like it/are weak at heart, please don't read this fan fiction.

A/N: I felt in the mood to write a Richie torture fic, so here it is. I hope some twisted mind finds enjoyment out of reading this as much as I found in writing it. ^.^ Also, I apologize to Richie fans for all but murdering your favorite character, he just plays the part so well.

Richie let out a long moan. Something was wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. He cracked open and eye; there was darkness, deep, velvety darkness.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear the sound of water dripping, a slow, steady drip. Each drop made his head pound as if the drops of water were on his head.

The next thing he noticed was it was cold. Not extremely cold, but chilly, like the atmosphere of a dungeon. That's what it was; this place reminded him of a dungeon, but who would have a dungeon in this day and age?

The next thing he became aware of was the fact he could not move his hands or feet. They felt sedated, not tied down. They felt heavy and a little numb. He was a prisoner in his own mind.

He also noticed he didn't have on his glasses, not because he couldn't see, but because the familiar weight was not on his nose. He also was not wearing his helmet, so, he supposed, he was not Gear.

Something felt warm running down his cheek. It slowly made a trail down his face and he could smell iron. Then he became aware of the stinging pain on the left side of his forehead. It must have been a cut, pretty deep judging from the way the blood was running.

Richie called out to see if he could get an answer. He couldn't remember anything from the last, well from before he came here, but he had no idea how long he had been here or where here was.

Suddenly, the slow tap of footsteps could be heard. There was still utter darkness, but the sound echoed in a way indicating a stone floor and walls. There was also a slight splash with each step, so the floor was damp. 'This is a dungeon,' Richie thought.

The steps came closer and closer, but Richie was too afraid to speak. The situation didn't seem good, it almost felt like something out of an Edgar Allen Poe story.

"Wh-who's there?" Richie managed to squeak out.

There was no reply, but the footsteps stopped and Richie could feel a presence in front of him. Maybe just inches away.

He could sense that the person, he presumed it to be a man, crouched down in front of him. The room was so quiet that the man's breathing sounded deafening. Richie could feel the hot air on his face and it made the gash on his forehead sting even more.

He felt a cold hand brush against his cheek and swipe blood up. He tried to flinch back, but only could in his mind; his body couldn't move.

The man licked the blood from his fingers from the sound of his swallowing and the shuffle of fabric that Richie heard.

Something was not right here. This was not a normal situation. Something was horribly, horrib- "Ahh!" Richie screamed out in pain as a finger was pressed into the wound on his head. It pressed harder and harder and Riche could feel his throat going raw. It pressed even harder and a fingernail dug in, wiggling around.

Tears formed in Richie's eyes and flowed down his cheeks mingling with the blood. The pain was excruciating, but Richie could scream no more.

The man removed his finger and Richie heard him chuckle. This man was sadistic, and he was a this lunatic's mercy.

He heard the man shuffle closer, and switch to presumably a sitting position. There was the sound of a knife coming out of a sheath, a slight chinking sound. 'Oh no.' Richie though as his cognitive processes came back into functioning.

The knife blade was placed flat against his right cheek and slowly drug down until it reached his chin. It was then placed with the sharp blade against his skin and drug across his lower lip, splitting it open like a hotdog bun.

The tears came back to Richie as the pain began to overwhelm him. Before he knew what was going on, the man had placed his mouth over Richie's in a full, rough kiss.

The man sucked the blonde's lower lip dragging out the blood. Richie tried to pull away. He desperately commanded his body to pull away, but it was impossible. There was no escape for him.

Richie soon became acutely aware of a new fact; he was completely and entirely naked. He had no shirt, no pants, no shoes, and no underwear. He was exposed and vulnerable.

He was made aware of this by the knife slowly sliding down his back, cutting thin, shallow strips. Then it was slid across creating a checkerboard pattern.

The man soon grew tired of this and pulled away from the torturous kiss. He jammed the knife into the side of Richie's thigh, eliciting a pained yelp from the young man, for safe keeping.

Then Richie felt wondering hands sliding up and down his body, touching him in placed he'd never been touched before and had not wanted to be touched, not like this. It made his skin crawl.

The man, with large rough hands, gripped Richie's testicles and squeezed hard. Richie let out a whimper trying not to give the man the satisfaction of a scream, but found it impossible to control himself.

"Why are you doing this?" Richie pushed out between gasps, but the man didn't answer, instead, he gripped Richie's hair and pulled hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to rip it out.

Richie took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm the pain, but the man noticed this. He punched Richie in the stomach with enough force that Richie passed out momentarily.

When he once again came to, he found that he had been flipped onto his hands and knees. Whatever was keeping him from moving was also keeping him stiff, like rigamortis, except he was still alive…for now.

He could feel the knife had been removed from his leg and blood was flowing from the wound. He could feel the man baring down on his back. As soon as he realized Richie was back conscious he bit down hard on Richie's shoulder drawing blood. No, not only drawing blood, but taking out a chunk of flesh.

Richie screamed. His throat hurt it was so raw, but he screamed because he couldn't not. Tears streamed from his eyes and ran over his bloody lip making it sting.

The man dug the knife into one of Richie's heels, and the in to the other creating deep gashes. He wouldn't be able to walk for weeks if he made it out of here.

Richie felt something thick and wet rub up against him and it didn't take him long to figure out it was the other man's cock.

Richie panicked and tried desperately, with all his might to move, but he couldn't.

"No. Please don't." He begged. He knew that it gave the man pleasure, there was a maniacal cackle, but he was desperate. "I'll do anything. Just don't -" The cock slid inside him bringing a cry from his lips as his anus tore.

The man gave him no time to adjust, but pumped harder and harder as Richie sobbed, "please stop," over and over. The man pulled out the knife and cut shallow slits down each of Richie's arms each time he pumped in.

The man chuckled every time Richie begged for him to stop and pressed harder and faster. Richie sobbed wishing he could will himself to die, but his heard kept beating. Why wouldn't it stop beating? He wouldn't have to endure this anymore if it would just stop beating.

Suddenly, the pounding stopped and hot liquid covered Richie's torn back making it sting like a thousand needles had been jabbed in at once, but reality was worse.

Richie cried our chocking on his own sobs. Some of his motion had come back, but he was too weak to do anything but collapse face first onto the stone ground, skidding his nose, but that felt like nothing.

The man was still not done. That had not been enough to satisfy his thirst for blood. He positioned Richie so that his rear-end was in the air and stuck in two fingers, three fingers, four, five and shoved his whole fist in tearing Richie further.

Richie was too weak to cry and had lost all will to resist. He just lay there with his head on the cold ground, sobbing.

Suddenly, there was an unusual sound. Something like fire, but different. The whole room filled with blinding purple light. There was an enraged growl, then intense heat followed by a strangled cry, and then darkness again.

Richie managed to open one eye and saw a figure glowing in purple.

"St-static, is that you?" He said in a raspy voice.

"It's okay. I'm here, Rich." Static said pulling Richie into his arms after dropping his coat over him.

In the dim glow, Richie could see a chard figure about a foot away, entirely unrecognizable, except that it may have been a man.

"You'll be okay." The superhero said turning Richie's head from the pile of ash. "He's dead now. He'll never hurt you again."

Realizing what had happened, what was happening, Richie buried his face into his friend's chest and began crying freely. "Let it all out Rich. It's alright now." Virgil said smoothing Richie's hair. "Everything is going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

A/N: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for the open ending and fact that there is no story. I hope you liked it anyway. Please review.


End file.
